


Burning the midnight bridges (of the haunting past)

by Sgladiate



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Mystery, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-08-14
Packaged: 2018-02-07 10:53:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1896351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sgladiate/pseuds/Sgladiate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Felicity Smoak’s life was thrown off balance during what supposed to be a relatively normal evening in her family townhouse.  She thought she managed to put certain events behind her, but now seven years later, a string of murders is shaking up Starling City. Is Felicity’s past finally catching up with her?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so I have the story pretty much planned out, so this I will finish :P It's not beta checked, so if you spot any errors, do let me know.

 

Christine sighed in relief to have finally arrived. She turned off the engine and the tunes of the latest boyband hit that were constantly spilling through her daughter’s speakers dissipated into thin air. She could hardly stand listening to the countdown of today’s top twenty when if it was up to her, the songs wouldn’t even have reached the top hundred, and to be honest she wasn’t in the mood to flick from station to station in search of something more apt for her taste.

 

Christine  reached across to the passenger seat and dragged her Chanel handbag onto her lap, to locate her make-up purse, confident the evening wouldn’t be complete without her ‘vengeful red’ lipstick. She was sure that the colour made her seem more strong and eloquent, qualities very much treasured in court. When she called for order, the red made her seem more stern. She was brilliant at her job, and the little tube of red made it a bit easier, giving her a nice confidence boost. The colour wasn’t inappropriate for a late dinner date either.  As she glanced into her mirror, she was pleased to note that she hardly had as many wrinkles as her friends, similar in age. She smiled. She managed to remain attractive through years of a daily dosage of stress. Henry, her husband had the tendency whisper in her ear “Always the beauty”. She still found it hard to stop a giggle spilling out at the sweet words.

 

A sudden echo of knuckles drumming against her window made her violently jump forward and drop her bag of cosmetics, putting a stop to any thoughts of Henry’s charm. As she turned towards the source of the noise,  she was met with a sight of a empty parking lot. What in God’s name?

 

The fear she felt slowly dissolved into anger. Was somebody trying to play a joke on her? She once again scanned the area around her car but it was empty. Or so it seemed. Could she have imagined the noise? She was tired so maybe it was only her mind playing tricks. Her bottle of sleeping pills was empty after she forgot to fill in her prescription and so she hardly got any rest the previous night.

 

Frowning, she decided to call Henry to come and meet her in the parking lot. You could never be too cautious and she could have sworn that she heard somebody knocking on her window. She suppressed a shudder. She’d rather feel silly than be attacked in the shadowed parking lot. She looked inside her bag but unable to find her mobile, she realised it must have fallen down along with everything else.

 

Closing her eyes in annoyance she reached down, hoping nothing rolled down too far under her seat, always hating to retrieve anything from the cramped space. She pushed her hand along the carpet floor but could not find the stupid phone. How was it not there? She put her hand further down, feeling up the space around the edges of her seat, her eyes now eye level with the bottom part of her steering wheel. As her fingers wildly moved across the area, something wet and cold brushed against her hand. She froze, her heart skipped a beat and she frantically began to pull her hand out of under her seat. But she couldn’t. Through the blinding panic that was making her thoughts swim, she realised it was somebody’s hand and it was pulling hers back. Have to get out, get out. The woman screamed but the noise soon died down, when a metal blade slashed through her throat.

 

Christine’s assailant  proudly examined the woman slumped in her leather seat, her skin ghostly white against the striking red blood coating her neck, and slowly reached to turn on the radio. The words of ‘Wicked game’ blasted through the car as the figure retreated into the shadows.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The weight of her body propped on her leg against the cold floor, gradually sent it to an inevitable path of pins and needles. Her breath reached her knee, and she heard herself sigh. She had been under her desk for a good half an hour.There was no thunder, nor any bad guys swaying their guns. She was not cowering in fright but connecting a bundle of cables to get her system up to it’s former pristine condition. Or even better. Diggle managed to get the new software off Amanda, and she could still recall the look of surprise on ‘the black driver’s face’ when she ran up to him and hugged him senseless.

“Don’t let Lyla see this.” Roy couldn’t help but quip.

They were all  in the midst of making the new lair since the previous has been compromised. Too many people knew about it anyway.

 

John and Diggle had carried in the metal table, the one which held the weight of all members including her own when Sara stitched her shoulder. However, its not that memory that made her stop in her tracks and forget about the cobalt wire in her hand.

 

It’s not even a memory of a bleeding Oliver, although god knows that’ll forever be engraved on her mind.

 

No, it were the words that rang in her ears.

 

Sedated Roy spend a good while there, on the cold surface with his eyes closed, seemingly harmless but still managing to sent a bout of goosebumps each time she laid her eyes on him. When she asked Diggle, if the fact that it freaked her out a bit, made her a bad person, she received an answer that even now had her feeling uneasy.

 

_“There’s not a force on Earth that could make you a bad person.”_

 

She couldn’t get those fourteen syllables out of her head. Like a reliable boomerang, they kept coming back, echoing against the base of her skull.

 

She realised Oliver, Sara even Roy, they all thought of her in that way. As this light unmottled by darkness.

 

“Should we have it here, Felicity?” she heard Oliver ask. “A bit more to the left.”  They moved to where she pointed and with a thud, the medical worktop legs dropped onto the floor filled with tiles that not so long ago were nothing but cement.

 

The stony ground covered with a layer of white dust was almost an ally in helping her read Oliver. When he performed his disappearing acts, she knew he would come here to retreat and shy away from human contact. The dust had an affinity for his leather and suit pants, so when she would see him oblivious of carrying a pattern of white particles, she knew he needed space. She’d bite her tongue and shoot down the questions that propped in her mind.

She wondered where he’ll go now, once they finish taking over the new lair when  he’ll be in need in some alone time.

 

“Damn it.”

 

She looked up to see Diggle almost ready to hop, and glaring at a box he must have dropped on his foot.

 

Not a _bad person_.

 

It didn't feel right, having them see her as this. She was hardly an angel. Hell, there have been plenty of times where she thought she was unscrupulous, and now to realise someone thought of her in this almost idolised way, made her stomach churn.

 

Without even realising it, she must have in some way, deceived them into thinking she was something she is not. She furrowed her eyebrows as she remembered how in the first grade, she had pulled Johnny’s chair as he was about to sit down. For the rest of the day he had to nurse a bruised pride and a painful rear.

 

In second, she was brought home by the police after having ‘run away’ when her mum said she was to blame. She had only managed to walk half a mile before the cop’s car pulled up.

 

In third grade, she had pulled Melissa’s hair when she called her mum a drunk. A month later, she placed a chewing gum inside her brown locks and she had to get them cut.

 

In fifth, she had got into a fight with a bully who destroyed her favourite book. She scratched his face and he shoved her onto the ground, leaving her with a bleeding knee.

 

In sixth grade, she took all the photoframes from her house with images of her father and burned them in her backyard when she realised he wasn’t coming back. She blinked back tears.

“Felicity, you ok?” John always worried. She nodded.

 

It’s the blond hair and the bright colours she wears. She is willing to bet her share of month’s worth of mint chocolate chip ice cream that if they just saw her in black, they wouldn’t be so quick to label her as the one with  pure of hearts, she thinks almost petulantly.  

 

The next  couple of years were hardly better. In college she forwarded one of the photos of Matt’s ‘package’ to the entire campus, the photo he kept sending her after she refused to go out with him. The guy took it upon himself to stalk her until she changed her mind. The message turned out to be enough to get him to see she wasn't interested. He left the following semester.

 

 A year later she was was arrested when a group of friends and her took part in a protest against a company extracting coal in favour of renewable resources, who weren't skim on tax breaks either. Few months later, ‘somehow’ all the police records from the incidents had been wiped clean giving her a clean slate.

 

These were small. Acts that almost signalled who she was to be. There was one year in particular that she would often revisit in her nightmares, the year that tarnished here beyond belief. It wasn’t what she did. It was what she had not done.

 

“ Felicity you want something from Big Belly Burger?” Oliver’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts. “Hmm, the usual.” She sent him a grateful smile, that he was quick to reciprocate even though his brows dipped for a second. “We’ll be back in twenty” Diggle added before following the other man.

 

Everyone always assumed she turned down guys because she was helplessly in love with Oliver Queen. Sure, her feelings had soared past the boundary of ‘friends only’, but that was a relatively recent phenomenon. She only realised she was in love with him few months prior to Slade’s retribution.

 

The ‘no dating’ thing she had going on, or nothing past the third date to keep it in the ‘casual’ business with some one night stands splattered around her calendar?

That was happening long before she met Oliver. Anything more than three dates and it would mean that it meant something.

 

*

 

“Blondie, you’ve been at this for ages. Come on, time for a break.” She tensed. She forgot Roy was still there.

 

“I managed to salvage this from the old lair.” She eyed up a piece of what once used to be part of a relatively large collection of weaponry. It was a small crossbow, that somehow ended up in the Arrow’s possession. She guessed he brought it from the island, yet she never saw him use it.

 

Roy handed it to her and her eyes were instinctively drawn to the intricate carvings along the shaft. Someone put a lot of work into making it. It was an entangled mass of symbols, so delicate she was having a hard time distinguishing where each one ended, and the other began.

 

“That’s unusual.” Her voice was quiet, almost inaudible.

 

“My thoughts exactly.”

 

“I guess I know what the first thing I will get down to, once I set this running.” Felicity heard herself say as she sent a look at the new TX52 system.

 

She placed the bow on the table adjacent to her desk, careful not to drop it.

 

“Speaking of which, I kind of want to get this sorted. The others will be back soon so I’ll  take my break then.”

 

Roy shrugged his shoulders, and she tried to hide a smile. He still wore that red hoodie, but somehow the misplaced anger that she associated with it,  dissipated completely after giving him the cure. Now, she just saw a cute youngster who was thrown into mayhem and came out of it stronger than before.

 

She ambled back to her previous spot, crowded with boxes, tools and a stream of wires that made Roy’s head hurt just by looking at them. Moments later, she was sitting down with her head drawn down, once again raptly focused on her new computer.

 

*

 

Felicity’s high stilettos clicked against the pavement as she hurriedly moved one leg in front the other. Earlier she decided she didn’t have time to go change her shoes to her panda flats, a decision she now regretted especially since she had quite a distance to walk to her car - a result of running late, and some red Mercedes owner seeing this as an opportunity to take over her usual parking spot. Except for the leather that uncomfortably rubbed against the skin on her feet, the walk could be considered pleasant she thought. The air was crisp yet warm enough to be out without a coat.  She took a deep breath and stretched back her shoulders a couple of times, letting the tension that build up during the day slowly roll away, making her steps somewhat lighter.

 

_In the jungle, the mighty jungle the lion sleeps tonight…_

 

She almost missed her step and had to catch the wall to keep her balance. The shrill sound of what seemed to be her new ringtone as of today - damn Roy for changing it again  -  rang out through the empty road. Felicity quickly opened her handbag to retrieve it. _Julia_. She smiled and pressed the green receiver button.

 

*

 

The door opened with a thud as she drunkenly stepped inside, barefoot and clutching her shoes, hard light hitting her eyes. As through a fog she thought that it was almost odd since she was not the one to forget to switch lights off, but with the  hectic morning she had she guessed it was not too surprising.  

 

She disregarded her clothing as she walked towards her bathroom, heading straight towards the sink. She was too tired to shower and opted for only brushing her teeth and removing her makeup to be prevent a full blown catastrophe where she wakes looking like a panda and with smears of mascara on her pillows.

 

Slowly, wary of all the sharp corners of her furniture she walked in search of her bag. She found it hidden under her dress, and quickly grabbed her phone to set an alarm an hour early than usual to have the enough time to make herself look presentable in a few hours. She hardly wanted another today or rather yesterday where a red Mercedes holder again stole her parking spot.

 

As she unclasped her bra and let it fall unceremoniously onto the ground, she got an uneasy feeling as if she was being watched. Felicity reached for her pyjamas with one hand but with the other she looked under another pile of clothing for the cold metal item. Grabbing her .38 glock, she swirled around to see nobody there. But the feeling of unease was still present so she moved through her house, scanning the place for intruders. Nada. She let out a loud laugh realising how ridiculous she must look. With alcohol on her breath, pretty much naked and a gun between her hands looking for whom? An imaginary masked robber to explain some gut feeling? She shook her head, put on her pyjamas and fell onto her king sized bed. She needed sleep, there was no question about it, she pondered as her heavy eyelids slid shut.

 

 

 

*

 

Four hours later she waited for her coffee to brew and switched channels to watch the early morning news. She yawned and straightened her right hand still holding onto the remote.

 

“Last night the fifty-eight year old Christine Barrismore…”

 

Felicity frowned at the mention of the name, realising it sounded familiar.

 

“.. the judge was found dead in her hometown. Investigation is in process to rule out any possibilities of foul play.  James handing over to you -”

  
The TV screen changed to a photo of a woman with a mass of red, curly hair. She gasped and the remote almost tumbled onto the floor.  No wonder the name struck a chord. She looked exactly like seven years ago except the hair appeared to be a bit thinner yet still abundant, and the skin not as elastic, hoisting several lines.The green eyes gleamed just like on day when she announced the verdict as Felicity sat in the audience. _Guilty._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've figured I should finally post this as instead of writing further chapters, I keep fiddling with the text. So maybe now that it is up here, I will get some more done? 
> 
> Also, allmyloveforfandoms - thank you for your comment, I’m sorry it got deleted :-( I put the prologue in chapter one and forgot the comment was there..

 

 

 

“Felicity!”

 

She jumped. She realised Oliver must have been standing there for quite a while. She tilted her head to the side and flashed him a smile, aiming for nonchalance. “ _Yes,_ Oliver?” He was dressed in his usual suit and a white shirt, unbuttoned at the top despite it only being early morning. An image she would have to get used to all over again; Oliver waltzed through the past few weeks only wearing t-shirts and jeans as he awaited the board’s decision about regaining back the CEO title. It was _different_ seeing him back like this again.

 

“Is everything alright?” His blue eyes pierced right through hers and his brow dipped into a frown.

.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” She asked her voice rising a notch like it usually did when she was nervous.  Most would start looking unsure at this point ; not knowing what to say, probably having expected a mere ‘I’m fine’.

 

(Like do you point out they have red rimmed eyes, or that that have an unhealthy glow, or that they’re obviously sweating etc. or was that rude? She could never decide.)

 

But _not_ Oliver. Oliver stood looking at ease; she learnt a while back that he was just one of those people who always emanated with confidence. “You appeared to be a million miles away,”  he said with a hint of humour.

She scrunched her hands together, thinking he wasn’t too far off.  “Sorry, I do that sometimes, part of my charm I guess. Not saying that I - Nevermind, so what’s up?” The trail of words caused the corners of Oliver’s lips to rise which didn’t go unnoticed by Felicity.

Sighing, she reached for the conglomeration of reports and notes he would need for the day.

 

As Oliver stepped closer to take the paperwork, he moved his left arm which she just realised he held behind his back the whole time while they were talking, and presented her with an _on the go_ coffee cup. Her bright lips involuntary stretched into a smile. “Thank you,” she muttered taking the drink and quickly took a sip. _Cafe Antonio_ made the best coffees so maybe it wasn’t that awful that she purposely broke their coffee maker after Oliver appointed her his EA.

 

“Mmm…”  the appreciative sound left her mouth after swallowing the vanilla beverage.  

“You know, I might even say that you’re god send” she concluded after another sip, sparing him a glance from under her lashes.

“Anything for my favourite IT girl.”

“The only IT girl you know” she quipped.

 

He chuckled. “Late night?” She narrowed her eyes, wondering what gave her away,

(Probably the badly concealed shadows under her eyes, she realised later).

“You could say that. What about you?” she asked sincerely, pushing the images of being dragged by her best friend to the newly opened nightclub to the back of her mind.

Soft buzzing against the glass surface of Felicity's desk sealed Oliver’s mouth shut as he was about to reply.

“Oh, it detective Lance. You reckon he’s back on force? I thought he was still recovering?”

“Last time I checked he was still in hospital, but I guess nothing can him keep from fighting the goons of Starling.”

“Just like us,” she said with a smile.

“Yeah, just like us.” Felicity gazed into his eyes before picking up.

 

She found out that if Detective Lance ever found himself to be near a hospital meal ever again, he might just puke and thus the hospital induced nausea should be enough of a reason to abandon the sterile wards for the precinct. Felicity laughed and they got down to business.

“Miss Smoak, would you mind directing the attention of our mutual friend to several cases that strike me as odd?”

“That’s fine. I’ll get him to call you?” She asked as the soothing, cold air from the air conditioning caused the skin on her arm to erupt in goosebumps.

“It’d be better if I just gave the files to you. I don’t know if my career can take it, if anybody spots me with the Arrow again.”

She absently nodded her head, despite Lance not being able to see it. “Does 7 o’clock today sound okay detective? At the usual place?”

She detected a hint of amusement in his voice as he agreed; despite having been denoted to the role of an officer, she carried on referring to him by his old job title. _Detective_ just suited him, she reasoned.

 

* * *

 

Quentin Lance was supposed to stay for observation for at least another three days, but the snoring of his roommate, the nurse that kept batting her eyelashes in his direction and asking if he needed anything every fifteen minutes felt like a drill pointed to his head.  Any moment longer, it would move and cause some irreparable damage. To his _sanity_. And there was the terrible food he already told Felicity about. He felt that having gone through the experience of it all, he very well deserved some iced doughnuts; to reward himself for his troubles and all that. He’d worry about mundane things like cholesterol once he was back hundred per cent.

 

(yes, he was a cop, but his natural liking for doughnuts began way before he ever thought of it being a possible career path).

 

Laurel was out of town for the next three days, so that gave him enough freedom to request discharge forms as he knew nobody was going to storm in and demand what in god’s name he was doing.

 

Quentin directed the taxi driver to his favourite bakery and after picking up a box of doughnuts for his colleagues and himself, he headed to the precinct.  As soon as he entered the building, he was surprised to note that the usual relaxed atmosphere had turned sour and throbbed with tension.

 

“So anybody willing to fill me in on what’s happening?”

 

Heads turned his way and the next minutes were spent on happy chatter. His return caused quite a stir and every few minutes somebody would come up slap him arm, which was beginning to throb, and tell him he was a lucky bastard to have survived. At the time, it looked like a series of serious injuries that had him with one foot dangling over an empty  grave  - handiwork of one the Mirakuru brutes that swept through the city. He pulled out and was eager to get back to his old duties - after all there was nothing like helping the city to make an old man feel useful.

 

His eyes automatically fell on the whiteboard he spend the last couple of years scribbling on and pinning photographs of potential suspects in order to make plausible scenarios. Most of the time these where enough to decipher what happened and catch anybody needing catching.  

 

His old friend Dave raised his brow and laughed. “Old habits die hard, eh?” As he shrugged with a grin, Commander Mathewson, a large sized man that lost his hair quite some time ago stood up.

“Maybe nothing needs to die.”

Quentin’s forehead creased in confusion. “Pardon, sir?”

“There’s been several murders in town. Bodies are piling up and we’re nowhere closer in finding the son of the bitch than when we first arrived at the crime scene.” He took a breath and headed closer to Lance. His voice lower, he muttered “We need all the help we can get, and you’ve been a damn good detective.”

A hint of a smile tugged Quentin’s lip but he bit it down. “So what do you say Lance? Interested in rejoining the team?”

“Yes, sir.”

The man patted his shoulder. “Good”.

 

Two days later he called Felicity Smoak.

 

* * *

 

Felicity sat in a café two blocks away from where she lived. It was relatively new, only opened two years ago, few months after she had moved into the area. Her house belonged to her distant aunt, who had no children of her own and so named Felicity as the heiress of the two storey building. She planned on selling it, yet as soon as she went inside, she knew she wouldn’t be able to. You could almost say the place had an ambience most modern places, her last apartment included, lacked.

 

Felicity figured it wouldn’t hurt if she changed her plans, and moved there instead. At first if felt too large and lonesome, so she even considered getting a dog but then Oliver came along and she quickly had to rule out the idea. With working two jobs, who would look after the four legged creature? She sighed in defeat. Only now, two years on was she finally comfortable being the only resident.

 

Somebody dragged the free chair from under her table, and it screeched against the oak panels. She looked up from the book she brought along,

(from which she made no progress in advancing further down the page that she opened soon after entering the coffee shop fifteen minutes ago. She figured she re-read the last sentence at least twice)  to see Detective Lance slightly out of breath as if he just ran.

 

“So sorry I’m late. My fellow friends refused to give me back the police car. Say it’s too early. Would you believe it? So I had to wait for a friend to finish a report that he should have done days ago mind you, and he is one goddamn slow driver.”  He said as he sat down.

 

Felicity laughed. That must have been the most she heard him say without having to probe for more details. She really was glad he was alright.

 

“It’s fine. Shouldn’t you be happy he’s being precautious?” Felicity asked with a glint in her eyes.

 

“Being painstakingly slow is hardly commendable. You can be precautious and still drive at a normal speed level. It just causes misery to everyone who is on the same road as him.”

She tittered at the annoyance still present in his voice and watched Lance push a red folder across the tabletop in her direction, that she didn’t notice he was holding. “Everything’s inside. All the case files, anything you may need.”

 

A waitress came carrying two mugs of coffee. She smiled as she placed them down. “Enjoy.”

Each of them muttered a thank you. “I’ve ordered you a black coffee, two sugars.”

 

He sent her a grateful smile.

 

“So detective, tell me about the case.”

 

Quentin glanced around, trying to inconspicuously examine the coffee shop so the wrong ears wouldn’t hear the information. Seeming satisfied, he turned his attention back to Felicity.

 

“There have been three murders in past two weeks. No leads. Nothing. My workmates seem to think we’re dealing with different killers as there has been no consistency as of far.”

 

“But you disagree.”

 

“Even though the way they were killed doesn’t seem to match, all of them appear to have come from Las Vegas. “ Felicity blinked at the mention of her hometown.  

 

“It’s not much but I think it’s too soon to assume its the work of several people,“ Quentin added. “What makes you think the Arrow will be able to help?” She asked trying to look unfazed and took a sip of her drink.

“In all seriousness? I don’t know. But if your team knows what we’re dealing with, has their eyes open,  maybe it could prove resourceful. He patrols the city. Hears and sees things that could point us in some direction. And your hobby Felicity, well that wouldn’t hurt either.”

 

Felicity blushed at the mention of the conversation she once had with the detective when she was taken in for questioning the previous year. She nodded her head.

 

“But the odd thing about the case? It’s like the killer has gone into a whole lot of trouble to make it seem like he is far less skilled that he really is.”

 

Felicity tilted her her head in confusion, as she scanned the detective’s face for some sort of a clue. Finding nothing, she asked “What do you mean?”

 

“The victims have been killed by strangulation, stabbing and shooting respectively. Apart from what killed them, all three have numerous abrasions, some more serious than others.” He said, rubbing his chin. “I’m thinking the fatal blow wasn’t just an accident but was carefully planned.”

He paused again and took a gulp of his drink.

 

“They were placed in the precise spots that guaranteed a slow and painful death. I mean it would be easy enough to shoot somebody and get an artery or something. Right? You’d bleed out in two or three minutes tops. Get the spleen or liver and the person has about twenty before they die.”

 

“Oh. Wow.” Felicity said wincing. ”So he or she is trying to conceal that they have some kind of medical training? Or maybe just experience?”

 

“That’s what I figured.”

 

Felicity unconsciously began playing with the corner of the folder as she thought about  what the detective had said.  “But what about the other victim? The one that was strangled. That doesn’t seem to fit. I mean... wouldn’t it take a relatively short amount of time to pass out?.”

 

“Yes, that’s what makes this case odd. Besides, with strangling and stabbing, the killer has to get close. It’s almost personal. The shooting?” He shook his head. “The killer wants to place some distance between the person  and himself.  But yeah, the strangling is relatively low skilled if you may say so, but requires physical strength.” He paused and after a few seconds added. “The hyoid bone was crushed.”

 

“So you’re thinking the killer is a man.” Felicity took hold of her lukewarm drink.

 

“Most likely scenario.” Lance muttered with a staunch look in his eyes. He then glanced at his left wrist, where he wore a watch. “Miss Smoak thank you for coming, and sorry for making your evening grim.” He gave her a rueful smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He stood up.

 

“It’s no problem.” Felicity assured. “Take care detective.”

 

“Likewise Miss Smoak,” and with that he headed towards the exit.

 

* * *

 

 

Felicity tapped her nail with chipping nail polish against her new desk. _Tap. Tap. Tap Tap. Tap._ A warm hand on her shoulder prevented further contact with the metal, leaving her finger hoisted half way in the air. She slowly drew it down. “I hate waiting,” she stated.

 

“I’ve noticed.” Oliver said dryly as he glanced at the half loaded search. Ever since it soared past the ten percent point, the mellow sound began to accompany his heavy breathing as he pulled himself further up the salmon ladder.

 

About half an hour ago Oliver returned back from patrolling with the Harper boy and announced they were all free to go home. Nobody needed to be told twice. Except for her. “Felicity.” he drawled. “It’s late, we can get the data tomorrow,” he tried again.

 

Felicity swirled her chair around and her ponytail bounced at the motion.

 

“Why, Mr Queen? It’s only eleven. We’ve stayed working longer than this. Or is old age finally catching up, and you need your sleep?”  He quirked his brow.

 

“Are you suggesting I’m old?”

 

“Well, I have noticed a wrinkle or two from all the frowning you do, but I guess it could also be indicative of you just not getting any younger. Oh, did I mention the grey strands of hair you’ve deve-” She gasped as his hands landed on her waist and began tickling her skin.

 

Doing so to her sides always evoked the loudest of shrieks that eventually left her with a hurting stomach.  “Oh-my-gosh _stop,_ I’m begging you,” Felicity managed before once again she bellowed with laughter.

 

“Only if you take that back.” He said lightly whilst his fingers continued to travel around her dress covered skin.

 

“Ne-” She tried. “Never” Felicity choked out as she burst into another fit of giggles.

 

“Just like you wish”  He continued to tickle her, and tears streamed down her face.

 

“Oliv-” He was merciless. “Just say you didn’t mean it,” he said with a lopsided grin.

 

“I can’t breathe.”

 

She arched her back  and began sliding off her swivel chair, kicking her leg out in the air as she did so.

Her hibiscus pink shoe struck his still not completely healed leg with _oomph_. Oliver’s expression turned to one of surprise and he lost balance, uselessly waving his arms in hope it would help him regain his equilibrium.

 

Felicity watched the fiasco with a mixture of amazement and a shred of worry for her own well being if he did indeed topple over.

“I don’t want to be a squashed pancake,” she muttered with a half feigned horror.

His hands flew forwards, just above her still form on the ground in an attempt to grab the arms of the chair behind her, but the wheels gained a mind of their own and the chair fled in the opposite direction.

 

It was too late to move and she was stuck between his feet anyway.

 

She squeezed her eyes shut and awaited the inevitable. When a moment passed and she could still breathe easily, she dared to have a peek. Oliver was above her with his weight on his hands, and face inches away from hers.

Felicity’s  smile grew thinner with each passing tick of the clock handle that Diggle fitted earlier, before eventually disappearing completely.

She watched his eyes, and for a second she was sure she saw them flicker from her eyes to her mouth. Was he going to kiss her?

           

“Oliv-” She began, not really knowing what words were going to spill considering her mind was going blank at the sudden proximity.

“I’m sorry,” he said in a tone she heard him use in his meetings when they stretched for longer than he wished.

Before she could react, he was up and his large hand enveloped around hers, pulling her back up.

He turned around, grimaced and over his shoulder muttered “I’m gonna head for the shower.”

  
Oliver streaked across the lair as she closed her eyes, blowing air at the strands of hair on her face.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah an update. I have not forgotten the story - I just got sidetracked. You know netflix (binge watching entire seasons) and books (that I was meaning to read for some time). Basically, the usual. Anyway, tell me if you like the chapter and thanks for reading!

Wet streaks of jade green shone underneath the bright ceiling light while Felicity sang too loudly to Cyndi Lauper’s voice. Or tried to. She’d sing every other line, as her thoughts kept bouncing back to a certain CEO. He could be dark, intense but also caring and gentle. What he could be said to be was above all was confident. He emanated with it; its what made him a good negotiator which worked well for his role as the CEO, and like a magnet for the fairer sex (his pre-island, debauched lifestyle was enough of an evidence.) Of course, the damn light his confidence gave off, made everybody in his path become aware that the man they were passing, wasn’t to be messed with.  He knew what he wanted and he wasn’t afraid to go and get it. Well, that was until last night.. He looked like he wanted to kiss her, and she would have welcomed it. And what did he do? Ran off. Last night that light flickered. And she refused to believe the _because of the life I lead_ rubbish he liked to speak about.

She carefully pulled the brush along the length of her nail, before dipping it into the bottle again.

_“Oh girls just wanna have fun”_

She stood up and began dancing around the room, waving her hands to get the nail polish to dry faster. Who needs Oliver, anyway? She was having fun right now.

 _“The phone rings in the middle of the night”_ she sang before abruptly stopping.  There it was; a sharp thud at the door. Felicity frowned, wondering who it was at… she glanced at the stereo tower, at 23.33.

Using the base of her palm she turned the volume down and headed towards the door. She looked through the peephole but was met with the sight of her front lawn unobstructed by anybody’s head. _Odd._ She went towards her window from which she had a perfect view of the street, and with a slight stretch of her neck, her front door too.

 

Her eyes stung from the dark only somewhat dispersed by the dim light of the streetlights. She could make out the shapes of the bins near the end of the driveway if she looked long enough.

Felicity didn’t notice anybody hurrying away.

Biting her lip, she surveyed the area again and eventually decided that whoever it was, they were long gone. She wondered whether it was simply a game of ring-and-run that she had fallen a victim off, but the kids in the neighbourhood seemed to like her and even more the candy she gave them on Halloween. Unlikely they’d risk their future harvests of the justice league cotton candy and the cupcakes with superhoes she liked to bake the night before the event. And yes, she realised she had an unhealthy relationship with the superheroes, but what nerdy IT girl didn’t?

 

She turned her head towards her doorway, lit up by a single lamp next to the door, and drew her gaze down, past the letter plate towards the red shoe mat.  Felicity’s eyebrows dipped as she realised something was sitting atop of it, too small to make out from her distance.

She ambled back to the front door, mulling over various possibilities of what she would find. She supposed it could simply be the book she lent her neighbour Harry, who just didn’t want to disturb her this late, so left it on her doormat.

Plausible enough? Perhaps. But Harry didn’t seem like the type of guy to wander at night just to return _the Hobbit_. He would more likely invite himself in for a half an hour chat to discuss Bilbo’s development, over coffee and biscuits in broad daylight.

 

Pulling the door handle, the door creaked as it drew open, letting her corridor light illuminate whatever lied ahead. Felicity’s eyes grew wide as she recognised the gift to be a paper origami. She quickly grabbed it, and held it up to the light. A black raven. A protruding beak, a matt black coat and sharp talons. Holding the skilly folded paper in her hand, she slammed the door shut with her heart hammering against her chest.

 

In the kitchen, she languidly pulled out a stool, letting herself drop onto the hard surface. Twirling the bird in hand, her gaze grew unfocused. Each morning that summer when she was nineteen, she had watched her mother’s formidable fiancee take a bite of his grilled toast, the cheese usually flowing freely onto his fingers. Tim would then wipe them onto his pants and rip the last page of his morning paper. She would watch mesmerized as the page would slowly transform into careful folds and eventually what Tim called art.  The skill to create almost anything had been unexpected to say the least. When she had first met him (much to her dismay), she thought weightlifting was the only activity he engaged in at his leisure. Instead, she soon learnt that he was a firm believer that origami could empty the mind, make you focused and ready for the day ahead.

Felicity’s pulse quickened, did Tim leave this for her? She pushed back the chair, and ran back to her living room where she had left her tablet. With a tenacious grip on the device, she took a steadying breath; it was time for some research.

 

***

 

Once on the Federal Bureau of Prisons website, she typed in Tim Burkovic. Seconds later, the screen read 0 results. She ran her hand through her hair. The Ubuntu font clearly read   _Locate the whereabouts of a federal inmate incarcerated from 1982 to the present_ in the header. Why hadn’t his name popped up?

 

Angrily she decided she had no option but to  hack into the prison system network. She’d done it before but it was always strictly Arrow related, now it was a personal inquisition; a quest for a peace of mind, she decided.

 

Ten minutes later, when she was sure she had not left any tracks behind, she began sifting through the data pouring onto the screen. She found the files packed under the year 2007, and with the press of _Ctrl + F_ , her attention was on the convict she was after. Clicking onto the case file, her gaze involuntarily stopped on the photo attached. Beady, brown eyes stared back at her. Shuddering, she told herself to get a grip and scrolled further down the page.

 

_Location: Unknown. Last seen on 23/01/2014._

 

Her body went limp, and the tablet slid from her grasp. Doing the math in her head, she realised that was fifty one days ago. For fifty one days, Tim Burkovic was enjoying his newly found freedom.

 

Why wasn’t _she_ informed? Her nails involuntarily dug into the skin below her pyjama shorts.

 

 _Why wasn’t the escape covered on the news?_ (She was sure the news of an escaped convict should have made it at least past the numerous mentions of Kim Kardashian’s daily activities, which they had not, the matter at hand  was not mentioned, not once- she kept track of the supposed ‘news’) The skin underneath fingernails broke.

 

 _Why were they keeping it quiet?_ A prickle of blood oozed onto her half painted green nail, but she didn’t notice, too busy remembering the image of the hateful, gleaming eyes.

 

As if in a trance, she reached down to grab her phone from the coffee table, her hands quickly finding the contact she needed to call. The phone dialled and after a moment, a sleepy “Hello?” answered at the other end.

“Hey Julia, it’s me. God, I know it’s late, but would you mind coming over to mine?”

Her best friend hearing the urgency in her voice, promised she would be there in twenty.

 

***

 

At half past midnight, Felicity’s doorbell rang. As she neared the wooden door, she warily called out, “ _Julia_?”

“Who else would it be at this hour?” came a gruff reply.  

“Fair enough” Felicity said, still agitated as she unchained the door. Pulling it back, she began “Thank y-”, but was interrupted when a heavy, panting mass pushed right into her, making her stumble back. She heard Julia laugh, and she blinked a few times, realising that someone was licking her face whilst she sat crumbled on the floor, her glasses knocked off.

“She missed you.”

Felicity pushed herself back into a sitting position, “You reckon?” Felicity asked with a laugh, ruffling the german shepherd’s coat. “I missed you too, Kayla”

“My mum’s making me look after her again. The woman has no sympathy for me and my allergy. She should know by know, that dog fur and I don’t mix. And this _one_ -” she said glaring at the creature in question “-sheds hell of a lot.”

 

***

 

“How did he get out?”

“I don’t know Julia. That’s why I’ll be calling the detective who handled the case first thing in the morning.”

“I’m glad you called me. I know I’d be freaking out if I was in your place.”

She shifted her body so she could sit crossed legged, and gave her a tight smile. “Aren't I, though? I pulled you out of your house so you’d sit with me,” Felicity said meekly.

“That’s not freaking out. You aren’t screaming, or pulling your hair out. I merely see that phone call as a pretence to get to spend time with me.”

Felicity beamed. “Whatever works for you...I’m trying not to, I guess -  which clearly isn’t working as my hands are kind of shaking, and I turned all the alarms system on, like _all._ I’m actually offended that you haven’t noticed.”

Julia scoffed and smiled. “Felicity, it’s gonna be alright. Tim doesn’t know where you live. What you look like. Like, the last memory of you would be as a brunette going through the goth phase.”

Felicity pulled a face, “ _Ugh_ , don’t remind me.”

The last thing she wanted was to involve her best friend in whatever the raven was supposed to signify, but at the time following the discovery of the escape, Julia was all she could think about. She needed somebody to offer her words of comfort, even if just to momentarily stop her pacing and making a hole in the floor.

Stifling a yawn, she added “I guess you’re right. I made a good job of erasing the old Felicity”

“ _Nah_ , you’re still that goofy girl I knew back then.” Julia said with a grin and the blond retaliated with a light punch.

“Shush”

“I do have one question though,” Julia asked, making a point of massaging her arm where she’d been hit.

“Shoot.”

“How come you didn’t call Oliver? I know the two of you are close. Not that I’m not happy that you called me.” Her best friend and her boss, or partner like Oliver insisted he was to her, have never met. But she regularly mentioned the vigilante to her friend, apart from the arrowing activities, which she had no choice but keep to herself, despite how often she itched to just blurt everything out.

“Not that close.”

Julia arched her brow.

“It’s complicated.” Julia just gave her _the look_ , which meant she was expecting far more that cliche she gave her. Felicity sighed. You want to listen to somebody spilling out far more about their personal  lives than you warranted for? She’s your girl to call; blabbering was simply in her genes. But, the topic of Oliver was a sensitive one, at which slight mention, her verbal diarrhea tended to completely disappear.

 

(Most of the time. When Oliver wasn’t out of sight; in front of him she managed to make more unintentional innuendos in ten minutes than she did  through the whole first year of college.)

 

“Fine. Kinda close when he’s not brooding. Or being an idiot, which is almost always.”

Such as when he left in a heave as if a boogeyman just jumped out of the shadows -  not that Oliver would run and leave her behind;  he probably would try and shoot an arrow through it, which is definitely not the point, she thought miserably.   

“So why didn’t you call him?”

“He doesn’t know about Tim. About any of it.”

 

***

 

“Oh, hi,” said Oliver trying to figure out who the dark brunette was, and what she was doing at Felicity’s door. Gentle breeze had began to ruffle his hair.

“And you must be _the_ Oliver Queen.”

He gave the girl the infamous grin, the one he used before the island, not entirely fake but not terribly genuine either.. “Nice to meet you, miss…?”

“Call me Julia.” _Julia._ Felicity’s friend from college, if he remembered correctly from what slipped out of Felicity’s mouth during a random conversation over the comms. (that was cut short when a russian mob member tried to make a run for it.)

“What are you doing here?” asked Felicity from the middle of the stairs, still wrapped in her robe and missing her glasses. She must have just gotten out of bed. Clearly. It was pretty early after all. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders, wavy and unruly and it took more energy than usual to find the words he wanted to say to her.

“I came to…” He trailed off when a german shepherd scooted past Felicity’s legs, lazily trodding his way. His brow shot up. “I had a german shepherd once.”

“You had a dog?” The blond questioned, jostling her head to the side.

Why did she looked so surprised?  “Yeah, it died when I was fifteen.”

“That’s the downside of having pets. They don’t live very long.” said Felicity solemnly, her eyes softening.

“So I’m presuming this creature belongs to you…Julia?”

“Well, technically no. It’s my mum’s. I’m more of a cat person.”

“Ahh.” The dog snuggled to Oliver and smelled his hands, wildly wagging its tail at the new companion.

“You still haven’t answered my question - about what you are doing here.” Felicity asked, tightening her robe.

“I thought I’d pick you up.”

“But I have a car.”

“I wanted to talk to you...about work.”

“You could have called.”

“I didn’t wa- it’s about -” he cast a look at Julia. She held up her hands, smirking. “Whatever, I’ll let you two have a chat whilst I make some coffee. Would anyone  like some?”

“Hmm, sure. Thanks”

Felicity just nodded, her eyes not leaving Oliver’s face. The dog rather than follow its ‘owner’, stayed glued to the IT girl’s side.

“Oliver, what’s going on?”

“Thea contacted me last night,” he said evenly.

“Wait.. _what_?” Felicity shrieked. “That’s fantastic. How is she?”

“I need you to hack the all the security footage in the five mile radius from my house, and run face recognition on my sister. It’s a long shot, but maybe.. Maybe we’ll find something.”

“Oliver?,” she said concerned, not understanding.

“She’s working with Malcolm, Felicity. She came to tell me he was coming back to town.”

“Oh.” Felicity forehead crinkled at the thought.  After a pause, she added “I will need to get to the Foundry, I don’t have the software here.”

He squeezed her shoulder in a silent thank you. “Would you care for a ride?”

Seeing the scepticism in her eyes, he added “My bike will be faster than your car. We’ll dodge all that morning traffic.”

Felicity groaned. “Fine! But if my hair looks like something tried to eat it, but gave up halfway,  don’t you dare laugh,” she said poking him in the chest.

“Promise,” he said in a mockingly serious voice. “Felicity?”

“Yeah?” she asked cocking her eyebrow.

“Wear something that’s not a dress or a skirt. Preferably, something comfortable.”

“Definitely. I  think you just narrowed my choice to an onesie.”

A smile tugged his lips as he watched her walk away, up the stairs.


End file.
